The Better Side of Bad
by Dragon's Lover1
Summary: Some of Roxanne's earlier kidnappings at the hands of Megamind during which he shows he's not such a bad guy after all, going so far as to get revenge on her behalf or cure her illness. Not that our favorite blue villain would ever admit it. *Mild Swears*
1. Mugged

**Disclaimer: **"Megamind" is owned by _Dreamworks._ I am not profitting from this fanfiction.

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**_M__ugged_**

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Almost completely hidden, the invisible car prowled along the road, its two occupants eying both sides of the streets. They were looking for a certain brunette who _should've_ gone down this way an hour ago, heading home.

"Where _is_ she?" Megamind hissed, frustrated. How was he supposed to kidnap her if he couldn't find her?

"Maybe she didn't go home," Minion suggested, driving. He pulled to a stop at a red light. The roads were deserted; it was eleven at night. "Maybe she went to a friend's? Or on a date?"

Megamind scowled. _With the perfect hair goody two-shoes, no doubt. _But before he could muster up any good hatred, he noticed an odd lump down an alley. For some reason, he felt alarmed by the sight, though he couldn't discern what it was at first.

"Minion, stop!" he ordered, eyes widening. That was. . .a person? A well-dressed person, no less? It couldn't be a homeless person. . .and his mind kept coming back to the possibility that it was Roxanne, his preferred captive. He jumped out without thought, rushing over as Minion came after him.

Each step closer only proved it _was_ Roxanne Ritchi. Her face was bruised on one side, and she was wearing a burgundy blouse torn at one shoulder and black slacks. She was unconscious.

"Minion," Megamind said, drawing his fish companion nearer. "How do you _wake up_ an unconscious person?" All he'd ever done before was knock them out.

"Oh, uh," Minion began, kneeling. "Usually you would shake her shoulders or tap her face."

"Her face is _purple,_" he shot back, kneeling down to apply the other method. He grasped her shoulders and shook, wondering how much effort he should be exerting.

Roxanne gave a weak moan, so he figured he was on the right track, weakening the shakes. When she pushed at his hands, wincing, he let go and stood back up, Minion rising with him.

She pushed up to her elbows, touched her cheek with a grimace, and finally blinked open her eyes. They were unfocused, but seemed to notice his boots and clear up. When she rose her gaze and spotted the two of them, she uttered a cry and scrambled back.

"Wha-what?" she demanded. "What do you want?" Straight from fear to fury; her spirit was admirable.

"Uh, well, I _was_ going to kidnap you," he answered honestly, "but now. . ."

She bared her teeth as she righted, but no amount of anger was going to hide the tears brimming in her eyes. That alone shocked him to silence. Roxanne Ritchi did _not_ cry. Other than a few strangled screams the first two times he'd 'napped her, she never even showed any terror. In fact, these last two times, she'd seemed only mildly worried.

"What, suddenly I'm not a good enough captive?" she retorted, facing the wall. "Not a good enough worm on a hook?"

The next words out of his mouth were involuntary. "What happened to you?"

She brushed her hair back, and he saw her fingers were trembling. "I was mugged."

He leaned into Minion, whispering, "What's 'mugged'?"

Minion answered, "It means someone stole her things."

Megamind looked her up and down once more. It was fall; she should have a jacket, he realized. And where was the purse she always had under her arm? Was that what was taken?

Putting up a careless front, he declared, "Well, you're in no condition to get kidnapped today. Minion, call a taxi to this spot." He pulled out a handful of human currency (he always had some on him in case he wanted something like a hot dog and didn't want it added to his rap sheet), coming closer to hand them to a stunned Roxanne.

"What is this?" she asked, eying him warily.

He rolled his eyes as if it were obvious. "Money for your taxi ride home, of course."

"_Why?_" she queried, narrowing her eyes. Suspicious.

He couldn't blame her. He said, "Because, Miss Ritchi, you were mugged. And you think I'm going to let someone _else_ kidnap you? I think not," he finished with a scoff.

"Taxi's on its way," Minion told them.

"Is that enough to get you home?" Megamind asked, pointing at the wad of bills now clutched in her hand.

She seemed to shake off some stun, replying, "Oh, uh. . ." She glanced at them, spreading them to count. "Yeah. More than enough, actually."

Fifty-six dollars was _more than _enough? Odd, the things he usually bought were immensely expensive. But if she was sure she'd get home with that. . .

"Try not to get mugged again," he advised, turning his back. "Minion. Ciao!" he said with a wave over his shoulder.

"C-ciao," he heard her murmur as he got into his car.

* * *

"You didn't see the assailant?"

"No, sir," Roxanne replied. She was sitting in a police interrogation room, answering questions while filling in line after line of what little information she had. "He came up behind me."

"You said you were knocked unconscious?"

"Yes. He dragged a. . .cord around my neck," and the ugly red wound was proof of this, "and slammed me into the wall." Again, the proof was in the swelling purple bruise on her left cheek, practically taking up half of that side of her face.

"And after taking your purse and jacket, he left you?"

"Without a word," she added.

"A pedestrian aided you, calling you a taxi and paying for it? Can you identify him?"

_You wouldn't believe me if I did,_ she thought, then answered, "He preferred to remain anonymous."

"You're certain it wasn't the same man?"

"Positive," she said, fighting back a scoff at the idea. Megamind would _never_ stoop so low as to mess with her head like that. Especially because she'd learned he never did anything without purpose, and what use would he have for her purse and jacket?

This new side of him, too, left her befuddled. He'd always been so stoic, taking joy only in his dastardly plans. He always had a cruel chuckle on wait when she screamed, so she'd stopped screaming. And though he clearly enjoyed scaring her, she'd found out that's all his inventions _ever_ did. He didn't mean her any real harm - though the same might not be said for Metroman.

He was an increasingly large puzzle, and just whenever she thought she knew what the picture was turning into, she learned another slew of pieces were yet to be placed. She was starting to believe he was being a villain just because he could, with no real malicious intentions behind him.

The very fact that he more or less just took care of her proved it. But if he still wanted to play, she supposed she could play along. It gave the station good ratings to have its star anchorwoman routinely kidnapped, anyway. She'd already gotten two raises, and there'd only been seven kidnappings total.

_Only._ As if she were looking forward to a dozen more? She shook her head at herself.

She realized it'd been quiet for a long while and glanced up in question. "Sir?" she asked.

He was thrumming his fingers. "I have no more questions," he explained. "I'm just waiting on that report."

Luckily, no one had to second guess her identity. Having to prove who she was would've taken hours more. The moment she walked in, however, everyone had recognized her as Roxanne Ritchi. Her reputation as Metroman's girlfriend (though false) had policemen stumbling over themselves to get to her. There'd been a slew of questions about the hero before she'd broken through and explained she had a crime to report. At once all of their faces turned contrite as they seemed to finally notice the huge _bruise_ on the side of her face.

This man had been the lucky one ordered to interrogate her and take her statement. She could tell he was just now waiting to take her report so he could ask something.

Once she finished, she slid it over to him. "I'd like to go home now," she said before he could pop off a query.

His face fell, and then he seemed to remember himself, shooting to his feet. "Oh, yes, ma'am. Come with me." He led her out.

It took no effort to find someone willing to drive her home, and though he asked three or four Metroman questions, her lack of answers finally made him ashamed of himself and shut up. He escorted her to her room, then left, promising to provide her with any and all information they dug up.

After the stressful night, she wanted nothing more than to hide under her covers. At the same time, however, she didn't want to be alone. Being in the company of so many police officers had kept her calm, and now that she was alone in her apartment, cold and wounded (in more than one sense), fear seeped into her.

She darted around, locking doors and windows. It would do no good against someone like Metroman or even Megamind, but the difference between them and the man who'd accosted her was obvious. The supers didn't want her hurt. The man had willingly injured her when she wouldn't have even put up a fight. Her purse and one jacket of seven wasn't worth risking her life.

Fear kept pounding into her once she was idle, everything double-checked for security. She went for her bed, shaming herself when she tore off the blanket and crawled under the bed with it. Wrapping herself up, she hid there, feeling more pathetic she ever had before. Slowly, so slowly, she began falling asleep. She could feel each second, waking in a rush at every unexpected sound, only to curse herself for the flinch. Finally, though, nothingness encompassed her.

Sometime later, a sound jarred her from sleep, making her jump -

And slam her head into the box spring above her. "Ow!" she bit out, holding her head. For a moment she was dazed, wondering why she was _under_ her bed. Well, at least she was warm. . .

She crawled out, recognizing the sound now as a knock at her door. As her memories flew back, she thought it must be an officer, or even Metroman - she may not be his girlfriend, but he definitely cared about her. She stumbled to the door, light-headed and woozy from a lack of sleep. When she opened the door, however, she saw no one.

Motion caught her eye, and she dropped her jaw to see her jacket was pinned to the door. She took it down, frowning when she saw a price tag still attached. No, not _her_ jacket - but the same type. Same color, same size. A replacement?

Her phone rang then, making her jump again. Shocking morning, she thought dryly, shutting and locking her door.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Miss Ritchi?"

The clipped tone made her sit as she said, "Yes?"

"This is Sergeant Mallory. We spoke last night, about your robbery?"

"I remember."

"We've. . .apprehended the criminal," he explained.

She blinked. Why the pause? "You found him?"

"Uh, he was handcuffed to the precinct's front door this morning. No one was seen dropping him off, so we're assuming Metroman did it. He confessed to mugging you, as well as. . ." the sound of papers flipping came through, "seventeen other women. His m.o. was the same, stealing the purse and jacket."

"Oh." She glanced down at the jacket still in her grasp, now hanging over her lap. "Then, my belongings. . ?"

"We raided his home, recording all the evidence we could find. We can't give you back your belongings yet, partly because they were scattered with the other women's. The jackets, however. . ."

"What is it?"

"They were. . .irreparable," he said, clearly having difficulty finding the right word.

She didn't want to know, staring more intently at the jacket now. "Okay, so I won't be getting it back," she said.

"We could reimburse you -"

"No, thank you, I have plenty more." _Besides, someone already __has__ reimbursed me._

And she had a very good idea who.

"You'll be needing to come back to the precinct later, to identify him in a lineup if possible."

"Which it probably isn't," she retorted.

"That's fine. We have enough evidence to prosecute him without it. And there's no rush; seventeen more women are eager to come down and see his face."

"I don't want to just walk down there. . ."

"Call back when you want to come down, and we'll send a car up."

"Okay. Thank you." They said goodbyes and she hung up.

She held up the jacket again, staring at it, still a little stunned by it. A part of her denied the truth offered before her, while another part of her smirked and yelled out, _I knew it!_

Other than the officers, no one else knew she'd been mugged - except for _him._ So if the police were baffled by the mugger's appearance, it followed that _he_ must have done it.

Which, alone, went against everything he seemed to stand for. He was a _villain, _a supervillain, by his own admission. And yet he seemed oddly possessive of her, as _his_ captive. Like he had the right to kidnap her whenever he felt like it. Had he, somehow, stopped viewing her as a means to an end? Had she become a companion of sorts, someone who'd recently started talking back?

She was starting to believe that he enjoyed back-and-forth banter more then he'd ever enjoyed her terrified screams. Which made sense, in a way; someone with as much of an _amazing intellect_ as he would love debating with someone who could keep up. She imagined he didn't get enough of a verbal challenge with Metroman or Minion.

She smirked. If he'd really apprehended the criminal and replaced her lost jacket (now just waiting on her purse and its contents), then he'd, of course, deem her in a good enough condition to be kidnapped again. Yesterday she'd been shaken, jumping at shadows, wondering if another mugger would pop out from behind each corner.

He'd known that, somehow, and since that made her unfit to be captured, then all he had to do was solve the problem. Catch the mugger and return her items. Point A to point B.

She shook her head, grinning despite herself. For as much of a genius as he was, his mental paths were easy to map out. She got up, removing the tag from her new jacket. Well, then, she'd just have to repay his thoughtfulness by being a good victim.

After going to the precinct (wearing her new jacket) to try to pick out the criminal's face - a failure, as she had nothing to go on besides the completely terrified look one of the men sported - and begin claiming her items out of the table lined with various belongings, she headed for work, already having called in that she'd be late.

Everyone was shocked at the bruise on her face, enough so that she had to keep reminding herself not to smile. How quickly her day had brightened.

Upon exiting the building, waving off a concerned Hal who wanted to drive her home, she purposely walked her usual path until blackness swam her vision, accompanied by the sound of an aerosol can being sprayed.

She woke up feeling no worse for wear, blinking against a light as the customary bag was yanked off her head. Tradition, she thought, fighting down another smile.

She looked up, met Megamind's gaze as he tapped his fingers, his usual evil smirk plastered on his face.

"Miss Ritchi," he greeted.

Only her past two years behind a camera kept her from cracking a smile. "Megamind," she hissed, faking an annoyed tone. "Again?"

"Yes, _again!_" he agreed, throwing an arm up in the air with his usual flair. Then he sobered a bit to say, almost conspiratorially, "You seem better. Had a good night's rest?"

She knew it, then - yes, he had indeed pulled the strings that caught Benjamin O'toole (her mugger) and then replaced the one item she couldn't get back. But she could also see there was no way he would ever admit to it.

"I did, actually," she half-lied, because it was more the waking up than the falling asleep that had helped.

"Your face is still bruised though," he pointed out, frowning at it. "And your neck is. . ?"

". . .Injured," she finished for him.

"Why would he leave _two_ wounds on you?" he wondered aloud, clearly confused.

She shrugged. "Overkill?"

"Why that lousy -" he cut himself off, coughing as though his speech was a fluke. He jumped subjects. "So, why aren't you healed yet?"

She blinked in true surprise. "Because I have a huge bruise and a rope burn?"

"No, I mean - I _see_ the injuries. What I mean is, shouldn't they have healed by now?"

"No." She kept a brow cocked at him.

He frowned.

"Wait. How fast do _you_ heal, then?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Why would I tell you that?"

Minion leaned in nearer to her, "On him, those wounds would be gone in a day -"

"Minion!" Megamind snapped. "No feeding her information like that."

"Oh," she said, a little impressed now. "So you heal faster than humans. That's how you keep recovering from Metroman so well, huh?"

He scowled but answered, "Yes. And you won't be reporting that!"

She shook her head. "Agreed." At his stunned look, she explained, "That would just make the citizens _more_ afraid of you."

"Good point," he murmured as if to himself. Then he seemed to like the idea.

When he opened his mouth, she cut him off, "I'm still not reporting it and you can't make me."

He looked like he _wanted_ to, but also like he respected the way she stood up for herself. "Any news to report while we're awaiting your beloved Metroman?" he taunted, changing the subject and plopping down in his rolling chair with the high back.

She cocked her head as though in thought, eying the ceiling. She drew her brows together. "Yeah, believe it or not. My mugger was apprehended."

"Oh?" he said with feigned disinterest. "And whom caught him?"

She recognized that coy tone - he was enjoying himself. "I don't know. The police figure it was Metroman, but that doesn't make sense."

"Why not? Wouldn't your boyfriend with the shiny grin do that for you?"

"Oh, he would," she agreed, no longer bothering to deny the relationship. No one was listening, anyway. "But he's on vacation."

Silence fell around them. Even Minion froze in place.

She eyed them both with real curiosity. "You two didn't know?"

"No, no, of course I knew!" Megamind laughed, trying to play it off. "I just thought he'd come running back."

"And how would he know to come back?" she challenged. "I don't even know where he is, let alone how to contact him."

"I'm sure one scream from you would reach him even if he was on the moon," Megamind told her as if she had forgotten an important lesson.

She shrugged, the action limited by her hands tied behind her back. "I don't see a reason to call him back yet. I figure, let him have a break."

He cocked a brow at her in disbelief. "A break? He doesn't deserve a break!"

She shrugged again. "Think of it this way: if he's gone a week, that's a week you _won't_ be spending in a prison cell. Last I heard, they even painted it with rainbows and deer," she added, disgusted by the thought. Does that ever actually _work?_ She doubted it. A solid color would probably be more calming.

"They did," he agreed with a gruff tone, as though annoyed by the fact. He shook his head. "But we were discussing your recent mugging, yes?"

"Yes."

"So if Metroman didn't catch him, who did?"

"My guess?" She pretended an admiring expression, staring off into the ceiling. "I must have someone else watching over me, too."

She heard him suck in a breath at her words, but resisted the urge to acknowledge it and glance at him. He spun around in his chair, and she considered this an odd enough move to draw her eyes.

Minion hurried over, leaning around the chair without budging it. "Sir?" she heard him whisper.

"I need a minute. Distract her," was Megamind's hissed reply. He sounded _flustered._ She had to bite back a smirk.

"Uh, yeah, so, Miss Ritchi," Minion began, coming to stand between her and the chair. "Would you like to hear our latest plan to kill Metroman?"

She met eyes with the fish, drawing her brows. "Why would I? He's not going to show up anytime soon. Really, we should probably reschedule. . .like when he returns, maybe?"

"That's. . .not a bad idea," he replied, swimming in a way that mimicked tilting his head.

"No, no, no!" Megamind bit out, kicking off and spinning to get around Minion and face her. He pointed. "You're not getting off that easily, Miss Ritchi!"

She figured as much. Leaning back in the chair, she pretended to be exasperated, though in actuality she was intrigued. Then, if he wouldn't harm her and enjoyed chatting with her, what would they do to pass the time?

"Well, if I'm going to be stuck here for a while," she sighed, "you can't leave me bored."

"Sure I can," he answered, then began an evil cackle.

She had to admit, he was good at that. Still, she interrupted, "How about a game?"

"Like what?" he challenged.

"Chess?" she guessed. She was good at it.

He looked interested.

Until she added, "I'd need my hands freed, of course -"

"Hah! That won't work on me," he told her, his tone going sly, lingering over the words. "I'm not letting you just run out of here." He mimicked a run with his fingers.

She rolled her eyes. "Please. As if I was that stupid. I don't know if every single blinky dial or button around here is linked to a weapon of destruction, but I'm not going to chance it. For all I know, I'd step on what I _thought_ was a bolt, only to find it's a _button_ that opens a _trap door_ down to an alligator pit."

He didn't reply, stunned silent.

She quirked a brow. "There's not really a button on the floor around here that looks like a bolt and opens a trap door to an alligator pit, is there?"

"Well, yes, actually -" Minion started to answer.

"No, no there isn't!" Megamind snapped, waving his hands. "Minion," he bit out, yanking the fish's robot body with him a few steps away. She could still hear him as he rushed out, "What did I tell you about revealing our secrets to her?"

". . .Not to," Minion sighed. "But she guessed it, so why not -"

"Never agree with her! Ever!" Megamind snapped.

Minion sighed again. "Yes, sir."

Sometimes she really pitied Minion, putting up with such an eccentric master.

"So, Miss Ritchi," Megamind continued as if without pause, tenting his fingers, "there will be no chess. No freeing of your hands at all."

She pursed her lips, thinking. Well, there was _one_ thing. . .

"How about logic games?"

That caught him, a spark coming to life in his eyes. She knew it - logic games would be irresistible to him. Too bad for him, then, that she was a champion at them.

Let the games begin.


	2. Sick Day

**Disclaimer:** "Megamind" is owned by _Dreamworks._ I am not profiting from this fanfiction.

_Notes:_ The apartment this takes place in is a previous one from Roxanne's during the movie, as this would've taken place a few years beforehand. In another fic of mine (unfinished) I gave Roxanne five younger sisters, one of whom is her twin sister, Maxine. Max makes an appearance in this chapter. I also never expected to add any further chapters to this fic, but it seemed that this chapter would fit alright. And who knows? I might add more in the future too.

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**_Sick Day_**

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Roxanne had been fighting a cold for a week, the virus unusually strong, her prescription pills only slightly effective, when her day _really_ started to plummet. Unable to sleep, she'd been laying on her couch, watching old black-and-white movies on her cable. She'd also been sniffling and sneezing, rubbing her forehead against the throbbing headache.

The coffee table before her had a TV remote, a DVD remote, her cell phone, three boxes of tissues (two of which were empty), a pot of cold coffee and a cup she'd been drinking from. Within arm's reach was a wastebasket, drawn in close from its usual place in the corner. It was filled with tissues and a little soppy from all the times she coughed up phlegm and had to spit it out.

And then she heard her patio door slide open.

She grit her teeth, the TV the only light in the entire apartment. Behind her, creaks sounded as someone tiptoed in, followed closely by heavier creaks. She could hear snickering.

Freaking Megamind and not-quite-so-irritating Minion.

"You win the timing award," she ground out, voice rough from not having spoken in several days, "I'll give you that."

He must have tripped, because there was a loud thud and then scrambling. Hushed whispers sounded, but she could only make out Minion's, _"It's Miss Ritchi."_

"Roxanne Ritchi!" he declared in his usual manner, jumping around the couch with flair, having located her. Then his face fell as he seemed to take in her appearance.

Old, ragged robe that she'd been wearing all week. Tissues clutched in both hands. Hair a mess, skin pallid, circles under her eyes and virtually no color to her cheeks or lips. She looked away from him to the television set.

"Yeesh," he groaned. "What's wrong with you?"

A sneeze worked up before she could answer, and she jerked from the force of it, though she still managed to catch it with her handfuls of tissues. She sniffled, an ugly, gross sound, before saying aloud, "It's commonly known as having caught a cold. Look into it." Her voice made her wince, annoyed at the nasally pitch.

"Sounds. . .hard," he muttered, eying her.

She tried a scoff, but it devolved into a series of coughs that she buried into the crook of her arm. Ew, she felt even more gross now.

"Sir, maybe we should come back later," Minion suggested. "You probably won't catch what she has, but. . ."

"What _do_ you have?" Megamind asked.

She shrugged. "A cold? Whatever it is, it's persistent."

"And why haven't you kicked us out yet?"

She admitted that she would've, had she been more coherent. As it was, she looked back at the TV. _The Count of Monte Cristo,_ the 1934 version, was beginning. "I'm not. . .myself," she tried to explain. "This virus has been kicking my butt and I haven't slept in two days."

He moved, and she saw him take stock of her coffee table. And, specifically, the half-full coffee pot still on it. With a swish of his extravagant cape, he turned, looking around further.

She couldn't make herself care. Let him look around. At this point, she couldn't even muster up any emotion to the thought that he had undoubtedly come here to snatch her up - again. A new plot against Metro Man every month, and she was always the bait.

It was to the point where she didn't really mind, but now she couldn't even care. Her brain felt. . .dead. She was hot and sweaty in her robe, yet she shivered every few seconds. The opening of the movie caught what thin attention she had.

Muffled sounds filtered through to her, and when she tried to focus, she realized her two guests were talking, off to the side. Trying to be quiet, no doubt.

She wet her lips, hating the awareness around her. She wanted to lose herself in the movie, not feel the slimy pressure in her nose or the tingling burn in her throat or the unyielding pulsing in her head. Even her stomach was rebelling, feeling like a yawning, empty cave.

When was the last time she ate? She couldn't remember.

The noise was continuing. Why weren't they stopping? Her TV volume was at three - so low she could only just hear it. Anything louder made her ears twinge.

"Ay, ay, ay," she groaned at last, covering her exposed ear. "If you're going to stay, sit down and shut up."

Silence fell. Blessed silence. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Then there was movement. Eyes on the movie, she could only see a flutter of black, then of blue. Megamind was crouched near her now, looking her over.

_I look interesting, huh?_ she mentally taunted. _Bet you've never seen a sick person before._

Then he moved again, sitting against the couch at her feet, silent. She didn't know if he was watching the movie or not, but when Minion took up a post at her head, she felt a little better. It may not be the best company she'd ever had, but she glad to have someone else here.

Not that she imagined she'd remember this later.

The odd question was asked as the movie passed, from either of her guests. She answered automatically, without comprehending what it was she'd heard. At one point she glanced over at movement, seeing that Megamind had shifted to bring his knees up, and was dumbfounded. _When did he get here? Why is he watching my TV?_ she wondered.

And then, resigned, _Whatever._ She refocused on the TV. Every so often, she had coughing attacks, or sneezed, or grabbed her head and groaned. Without thought, she blew her nose and hacked up phlegm, adding the liquid and more wadded tissues to the wastebasket.

She was unaware of anything she said or did after the moment had passed. Though she was hungry, she kept forgetting that fact once a few seconds had gone by. Though she was tired, staring blankly at the TV and yet not registering it, her eyes refused to stay closed. She was the weakest she could remember being, but she yearned to go for a walk or ride her bike.

Somewhere in the middle of the movie, her phone rang. Delirious, she realized she'd been thinking of her twin sister, Maxine. She grinned as though an inside joke had just passed between the three of them.

"I'd bet my life that's Max," she said as she reached, reached, floundered, and finally grasped the phone.

"Who's Max?" Megamind asked.

She didn't answer as she flipped the phone open. _Maxine_ was displayed. She pressed a button and answered, "Ollo?"

Maxine's voice came through, "Since when do you say 'ollo'?"

"Since now," was her reply.

"Wow. You sound terrible, sis."

"Oh, well, I love you too," Roxanne replied with as heavy sarcasm as she could manage.

To Minion, Megamind whispered, "What's going on?"

"She's talking to someone on her phone," Minion whispered back.

Maxine was going on, making it harder still for Roxanne to focus.

"What's up? I don't usually get the urge to call you at two-thirty in the morning."

"I was thinking about you, obviously," was Roxanne's reply. They'd always been like that - psychic with each other, if only to an extent. Three years apart hadn't dulled them to the sense of when one wanted to talk to the other. Which is why Maxine's number was the first Roxanne had programmed into her phone.

"Okay, I'll rephrase," Max said. "What's got you down?"

Instant dread settled in Roxanne. "I'm sick."

"For how long?"

"A week."

"A _week?_" Max echoed, shocked. "Have you been to the hospital?"

Megamind and Minion were still talking. She tried to shut them out.

"Yes," she answered. "Twice. They gave me pills."

"Well, haven't you been taking them?"

"_Duh,_" was her sharp answer. "I've been as good as OD-ing on them. They're not working."

"Then you need to go _back,_" Max pressed.

"Tomorrow."

"No. Now. Right now."

"I can't get up, Maxy," Roxanne sighed. "I haven't slept in two days - it's like insomnia caused by the symptoms or something. Oh, I should tell you this now: I promise I won't remember you called in another few minutes."

Max made a wincing sound, inhaling sharply. "Sorry, babe. I wish I could help more. Want to me. . .I don't know, send an ambulance to your place?"

"Look, I've been sick a week. I'm sure I'll kick it soon enough."

"I don't trust that."

"Trust _me._ I know myself. I'll kick it." When Maxine started to protest, Roxanne cut her off, "I'm already getting better. I haven't coughed once since you called. See? You're my medicine. Just hearing your voice makes my immune system kick in."

Max chuckled despite herself, then sighed. "I'm calling again tomorrow. If you're not any better, that ambulance is coming. Get me?"

"Got you."

"Bye, big sister."

"Love ya like a sis," Roxanne replied, smiling.

"I _am_ a sis."

With a laugh, Roxanne flipped the phone closed, then tossed it on the table, sending it skidding. Maxine, the feel-good medicine. Ah, what a horrible, horrible lie. She'd been holding back a coughing fit for the entire conversation, swallowing to soothe the ache as best she could. Now she turned her face into her pillow and let them out, grimacing as the fire in her neck increased in temperature.

"Ow," she moaned, rubbing at her throat.

"Was all that true?" Minion asked, leaning over her.

She glanced up. "Was all what. . ? Oh, the talk with Maxine?"

"Maxine?" Megamind echoed.

"She's your sister?" Minion went on.

Roxanne narrowed her eyes. "Why would I tell _you_ that?"

Minion had the grace to look ashamed of himself.

"You have a sister named Maxine?" Megamind was saying.

"You," she said, pointing at him - almost reaching his nose, too; he went cross-eyed to focus on her finger. "You can shut up. Don't ask those questions. I don't ask about _your_ sisters."

She ignored the shadow that passed his eyes, refocusing on the television. The movie was continuing, and she would rather watch it than submit to twenty questions. Once again, time began sliding by, and soon enough she'd forgotten that Max had called.

When the movie reached its climax, showing Dantes and Mercedes in a tree, she started to cry.

"Wha-wha-what?" Megamind stammered, shocked at her reaction. He staggered to his feet.

Surprise trickled into her; when did _he_ get here? Still, she pointed at the TV she could only just see through her bleary eyes, sobbing, "I _want_ that. . ."

Both companions glanced at the television.

"A. . .tree?" Minion checked.

"No, _that,_" she pointed, sniffling. Her nose began trickling with her tears, so she covered her face in tissues and ground out, "What they have. That love and devotion. . .I mean. . ." Her cries grew too harsh to speak through anymore.

She felt, more than saw, her occupants moving away. When she pulled the tissues away to grab fresh ones, strings of various fluids bowed from her face to the papers.

"_Ewwwwww,_" she groaned, throwing them away. She needed a _towel_ at this point. But then she forgot to get up and grab one, watching the credits roll.

For a long moment, she lay perfectly still, her arm hanging out. She was partially aware of movement and sound around her, partially aware that she'd said something, but didn't know what. Soon enough, she was alone again, and another movie began playing. This time, she forgot the name before the opening credits had finished.

* * *

"You know, sir, this seems like it won't work," Minion suggested tentatively.

Megamind shook his head. "Of course it'll work! _She's_ in trouble, _he_ wants to save her - all we have to do is convince him it's _our_ fault," he reasoned, gesturing between them.

Brain bots hovered nearby, awaiting orders; more were working, watching chemicals boil, taking recordings with their single cyber eyes.

Megamind was overseeing it all, making sure everything was perfect. Nearby on a table was a familiar wastebasket, its contents strewn over the table. Liquids had been isolated, reduced to their basic compounds, and recorded on a slew of hanging notes. Through his _considerable_ intelligence and knowledge-base, he was now aware that the reason why Roxanne's pills hadn't been working is because the doctors all assumed she had influenza, when she, in fact, had three separate viruses.

And once the results had been completed, he held up a vial of clear liquid, grinning. This would work, of course, without a shadow of a doubt. Although he didn't know _everything_ about human immune systems, he knew that Roxanne would be completely cured of her sicknesses within a few hours. Provided she drank it, of course.

"Let's contact him," Megamind said, keeping the vial close.

Minion uttered one of his usual sighs, but went ahead and sent out a brain bot. Once it had discovered Metro Man and began a live feed, Megamind laughed into his own camera.

"Megamind," Metro Man hissed, offering the briefest of his dazzling smiles. "What do you want this time?"

"Oh, the usual," Megamind intoned, tilting his head. "You, groveling at my feet. The city right behind you. And eventually, the world. . ." This he said while uncurling his fingers, as though he could grasp it.

"Never," Metro Man shot back, his tone all serious. "I will _never_ be at your feet. I am a mountain, and mountains never bow."

"Aha, but with enough dynamite, mountains can be reduced to rubble," Megamind countered.

Metro Man opened his mouth and shut it, eyes darting as he thought up a comeback. "Splashing the dynamite with water will render it useless," he finally said.

"Good thing I have a backup of nitroglycerine," Megamind grinned.

"Uh, sir," Minion interrupted, cutting off any retort Metro Man may have had. He made a _continue on_ gesture with his robotic hands.

"Oh, yes," Megamind agreed, then turned back to Metro Man. "I have news for you, Metro _Mawn_. Your beloved Roxanne Ritchi has been infected with a virus I, myself, have developed." _What a lie._ "If she doesn't get the antidote within the next three days, she's dead."

Metro Man's eyes began glowing in the pupils, one of the few tells he had. This one said, _That struck home._

Megamind lifted the vial, dangling it. "This is the antidote. I'll be keeping it with me, if you don't mind. Now, do as I say, and I'll gladly have her drink it. . ."

Metro Man had disappeared off the screen. Scenery whipped by as the brain bot spun and searched, but caught no sight of him.

"Uh oh," Minion breathed. "Sir, I don't think the trap is going to work. . ."

"Never give up hope," Megamind advised, turning off his camera and settling in at the controls. Now all he had to do was wait.

If all worked out, Metro Man would come crashing in through the ceiling as he usually did. But he would go straight through an illusion of the floor beneath (predictable, since Metro Man always slammed into the ground). Beneath was a vat of extremely potent chemicals meant to put him to sleep. And then, once he was under -

A crash sounded as the ceiling was broken through, interrupting Megamind as he recounted his latest brilliant plan.

The first problem came about when Metro Man _didn't_ touch ground. He was right in front of Megamind in an instant, yanking him off the ground by his spiked collar.

The fury in his face made Megamind believe there would be no further witty banter between them.

"Checked on Roxanne before coming here, I assume?" Megamind asked with a cruel grin. "Then you know how serious her situation is."

"Diabolical villain," Metro Man grit out.

"Flatterer," Megamind chided.

"Give me the vial. Now."

"Ah ah ah," he said, curling his fingers around the vial behind his back. "I told you how the game was to be played, Metro Man."

"I'm changing the rules," Metro Man bit out, yanking Megamind's arm from behind his back. He seized the vial before either villain could react, Minion reaching out in vain when Metro Man took off, breaking another hole in the ceiling and carrying Megamind with him.

Panic flared in Megamind. Metro Man had _never_ been this angry before. Usually this really _was_ a game, and they'd both play up showmanship before the inevitable ending. Being yanked around by one piece of clothing wasn't on his list of fun-filled activities before landing back in -

He screamed when Metro Man dropped him, but landed not long after. He hurt his elbow and rear on the pavement, rolling as he went. Then he offered a sheepish grin at the number of officers he'd been dropped in the middle of. As he hauled to his feet and cuffed, he watched Metro Man weave through the buildings, his intent clear.

He hadn't lied about everything. That vial _would_ cure Roxanne's illness, after all. And though his trap failed miserably, he accepted yet another tag of being bad.

Failed, maybe. But he was smirking in spite of it.

* * *

Still no sleep. For a moment, this afternoon, she had the inkling that she wasn't alone, but when she looked, no one was there. She chocked it up to her failing brain activity, then promptly forgot about it.

It wasn't too much longer when she felt herself lifted, finally focusing her eyes and seeing a wall of white and grey before her. It took a moment for recognition to spark, and she realized it was Metro Man. What in the world was _he_ doing here? He never made house calls.

He was propping her up on her couch, her head limp on his rock-hard biceps. She wanted to ask him why he was here, but couldn't get the words out.

"Don't worry, it's almost over," he said in his best soothing tone. Something was pressed to her lips, something that felt like glass.

Liquid was poured into her mouth and she swallowed reflexively, not understanding what was going on.

"This will cure the virus Megamind infected you with," Metro Man told her, reading into her confusion. "His plot is over. Soon, he'll be back in prison - where he belongs."

_Megamind infected me with a virus?_

The cure must be working, she mused, for her thoughts to be this coherent this fast. And then she blinked, realization setting in. _Megamind infected me?_

She pushed herself up on her own, no longer seeing Metro Man before her. _He infected me!_

"That - no good -" she started, frustrated.

"Easy, easy, Roxy," Metro Man coaxed, pushing her gently so she leaned back into the couch. "Just try to rest. Is it working so far? Your color's better."

Whatever that liquid had been, yes, it was working. It was as if her aches and general sickliness were melting away. Her head felt less full, her ears unstuffed, her throat was soothed, her running nose was drying. Exhaustion still suffused her, but now, she felt as if she could really sleep.

Still, she wanted payback this time. This sickness had debilitated her for a week - and it was all part of Megamind's plot? What, to get her sick to the point where no human means of curing her would work? And how would he have known she wouldn't check into the hospital for good?

He must have been watching her, keeping tabs. Well, then, she decided, if he was watching this apartment, she'd be moving out real soon.

When Metro Man stood to leave, satisfied with her recovery, she grabbed him. "Wait," she urged. "I want to see him first."

Metro Man looked at her like she was crazy. Maybe she was. "You want to see Megamind?"

"Before he gets thrown in prison."

He looked her up and down pointedly.

She glanced down at herself. Oh, right, her _robe_ - dirty, torn from the many times she'd run into things over the past week, and smothered with multitudes of bodily liquids.

"Wait here - or better yet, tell the police to wait - is he with the police? - and then come back. I'll be dressed."

"You're about to pass out," he observed.

"I'll make it a few more minutes," she bit out, forcing herself to her feet. "I'm changing."

"Then I guess I'll be back," Metro Man sighed, resigned.

In truth, it was as if he never left. Once Roxanne was dressed for outside and came back into the living room, he was still there, looking as if he wanted to clean up the mess but thought it'd be impolite.

"Take me to him," Roxanne ordered, brooking no argument at this point.

He gave a nod, picking her up and taking her on a slow flight down to where Megamind awaited in a circle of cameras and flashing lights. Once she was back on her feet, she confronted Megamind, pushing through the crowd with a strength she hadn't felt in days.

"You," she snapped, pointing. He glanced up, and she caught a flicker of some emotion before a mask of carelessness had been built. "You gave me some engineered virus?" she bit out.

He cocked his head. "Brilliant, wasn't it?"

She slapped him. It was both reflexive and intentional; she wanted to hurt him. For a week of her own personal hell, she wanted to hurt him. And the fact that he didn't care the least bit that her life had been in danger burned her. She'd thought - foolishly, it seemed - that he at least didn't want her dead.

Some twinge passed in her mind, a flicker of a memory, but it was gone before she had a grasp on it. And then she was just glaring, officers pushing her back now, away from the apprehended alien.

"I hope you suffer," she yelled.

Stares followed her as she was pushed further back, until she hit a wall and knew she'd been squired back to Metro Man.

Megamind waved his fingers at her, cuffs gleaming, his smirk just as satisfied and evil as ever, despite the way his cheek was darkening, reddening. "Ciao," he called before he was guided into the back of the police cruiser.

"Take me home," she sighed, feeling her exhaustion catching up with her. With no hesitation, Metro Man lifted her again, depositing her straight to bed.

She thought she murmured _thank you_, but was too tired to tell.

Although she _did _hear when Metro Man's voice drifted back into her bedroom.

"Don't you have a wastebasket in here somewhere?"

More than the idea that he would be cleaning up her living room, what caught her attention was the fact that it was missing. Where would it have gone? She had it last night, hadn't she. . ?

She was asleep before she could delve too far into her memories.


	3. Stalker

**Disclaimer:** "Megamind" is owned by _Dreamworks._ I am not profiting from this fanfiction.

* * *

_**Stalker**_

* * *

How _ridiculous_. If this kept up, he was going to have to refine his titles. Being the Master of All Villainy meant a few things, after all - such as being able to kidnap your preferred victim when you needed her. Unfortunately, Roxanne Ritchi was nowhere to be found.

He - or rather, _they;_ he and Minion were equal parts knowledgeable - knew Miss Ritchi's routines, her likes and dislikes, what she did during her off days, her favorite places to visit, everything. Which is why he knew something was up. She never took off after lunch on a work day, and if she did, there were only so many places she would visit.

She was a celebrity of circumstance, after all. People _knew_ her. She was every bit as easily recognized on the street as Metro Man or even Megamind himself. There were only so many solitary places she could visit and not be swamped by fans.

Well, very few were fans of _her_, which he could imagine being irritating for her. Yet another reason she would choose to stay out of the fray when she wasn't on duty.

But _really_. Something about this situation smelled rotten. Roxanne Ritchi wasn't the type to forego her responsibilities as a reporter; she would have gone to lunch and then gone back to work. 11:20 to 11:40 was her lunch break.

It was 12:18 now and still no sign of her emerged.

His plan was spread so thin today that he'd gone to kidnap her himself (he sent a glance at the can of Knock-Out Spray to make sure it was still on the passenger seat). Now he admitted that something had happened to her. She was often more punctual than anyone else in the city. There was simply no way she could be this late for anything.

He pushed a button on the console in the center of the vehicle, and a screen flickered to life. "Minion," he said aloud.

Minion, who'd been busy off-screen, called out an affirmative and came rushing into view. "Sir?" he asked. "What happened?"

Of course Minion would be in the same place mentally; Miss Ritchi wasn't late, didn't fight when she was kidnapped, and between her and Megamind, he would have been a maximum of five minutes late. _Five minutes._

Megamind replied, "I can't find Miss Ritchi. Set up the computer to search for her. I'm going to try to track her down."

"Sir, if I may. . . I think the plan would work without her."

He scoffed. "It's the principle of the matter! What kind of evil overlord can't find his damsel? Really. I swear, if some other villain tried to kidnap her before I could. . . Oh, _there will be consequences._"

"Y-yes, sir," Minion agreed, looking just a tad bit stunned.

"If you find anything on her, let me know. I'll be doing the same." That said, he punched the button again, turning off the communicator. Now, where to begin. . ?

Her office sounded like a good starting place. At least this way, he would know if she even showed up for work. Steering dangerously close to other vehicles, he sped along, blowing past red lights and even coming close to clipping pedestrians. Nobody ever saw the invisible car as it rocketed by.

Ah, he loved this car. It handled like a dream, obeying the slightest movements of his hands. Add that to the number of advancements he'd put into it - like auto-piloting - and this was the least dangerous vehicle on the road. He didn't even bother with seatbelts. Technically, with the safety devices he'd installed in case of a crash, he didn't _need_ to.

He dehydrated a car next to the KMCP building to park over it before getting out. Twirling his gun and whistling a tune (purely for dramatic effect; he really was annoyed at the situation) he stalked right into the main room. The receptionist froze, a phone to her ear, as she spotted him.

"Don't mind me," he said to her as he rounded the desk. He looked over the computer screen displayed before her, but it had no useful information. So he said, "Did Roxanne Ritchi come to work today?"

For a long moment she didn't move. And then he thrummed his fingers and bit out, "Answer me. If you continue to hinder my discovery of Miss Ritchi's whereabouts I will deem you _more useful when dead._ Understand?"

At once the woman shrieked, jumping back as his threat hit home. She gave a series of nods, now plastered against the desk, half-sitting on it.

"Did. Miss. Ritchi. Come. To. Work. Today?" he reiterated.

"Y-yes, yes! She did. But she left for lunch and hasn't returned yet. No call-ins. We're treating it as a no-show," she volunteered the information.

"Do you know where she went for her lunch?" he demanded.

She shook her head. "Out the front door and turned left. Didn't get in the van. That's all I know, I swear!"

Clearly this woman deserved a raise, to have such a faultless memory coupled with such good observation skills. Not to mention how she recovered so quickly to answer his questions.

If he were a good guy, he might just suggest the station give her one. With a smirk, he turned to leave, no more questions. He considered dehydrating the woman, but he was more focused on Miss Ritchi.

Left the building, turned left, walked to. . .where? There were three restaurants within easy walking distance, one of which was a fast food joint. Only one had he ever seen Roxanne Ritchi visit, so he started there, getting back in his vehicle.

The waitress he spoke to wasn't half as helpful as the receptionist. She fainted after just a single threat to her life. The cook behind the counter, however, was most verbal in declaring that Miss Ritchi had indeed visited. He didn't recall what she ordered, but he had noticed she left in a timely manner, before her lunch break was over. Left a good tip, too.

He went to the booth she'd sat in, ignoring the bustle around him as people cowered in fear and murmured to each other. From the window he could see the KMCP main building. His eyes scanned the streets for signs of her, signs of _anything_, really. After a few moments, he exited the restaurant, eying the streets more.

His gaze fell on a puddle in the gutter. One would have to step around it - or into it - to cross the street. Feeling a little silly for going this far, he came up to it and perused the footprints left from those who'd stepped in it. He was surprised at himself for actually finding a shoeprint that resembled Miss Ritchi's favored shoe type. It had no discernable pattern, but it was the right size. He was glad it was a cool October day, allowing for the water to remain for so long.

He followed the few steps and was surprised again at seeing how they abruptly changed from a walking pace to smudges. Whether it was her or not, _someone_ had been dragged around a building corner and into an alley. Not without a fight though, judging by the smears. The wetness dried up before reaching the alley itself, but its destination was clear.

A low growl escaped him as anger began building up. If he was right, then someone else _had_ snatched up Miss Ritchi. Oh, no. He'd told her once, in so many words, that he wasn't about to let anyone else kidnap her. She was _his_ victim and lord knows he was possessive of his property.

He went back to the car, hitting the communicator again. "Minion!" he demanded.

Minion was on screen in record time. "Sir?" he replied.

"I believe Miss Ritchi was kidnapped as she left the Roy's Kitchen diner, before 11:40. Hack into the security cameras on this corner and see what you can find between 11:20 and 40." As he spoke, he drove, until he was parked beside the alley in question.

"I'm on it, sir," Minion nodded.

Megamind could only sit back, unseen in his car, and glare into the alley. The sharp corner visible from here meant no vehicles beyond motorcycles could travel it without damaging the vehicle, most likely getting it stuck in the process. Which meant whoever nabbed Miss Ritchi was on foot. Which, in turn, meant they would have a safe house nearby, somewhere to take her quickly without raising any suspicions.

The fact that he'd discerned she'd been fighting her kidnapper made him a little proud of her, in an odd way. As if she'd just proven - by track record alone - that she agreed with him, that she was, in truth, _his_ damsel in distress. After all, she never fought _him_. Besides which, it fit. Metrocity was _his_ domain; Metro Man was _his_ nemesis; Roxanne Ritchi was _his_ victim. Whoever had taken her was about to learn this the hard way.

He wouldn't be nice with delivering the truth. For one, because, well, he was _bad_ anyway. But for two, this was a type of transgression he couldn't forgive.

In no time, Minion was back on screen. Megamind demanded, "What did you find?"

"A man nabbed her," Minion nodded. "You were right, sir. She was pulled into the alley. I'm already searching the police database for any background information on the man."

"Did it show which building she was taken to?"

"From the angles it showed, no. The recording only proves she was dragged around the corner at the back of the alley."

"_Dragged_?" Megamind echoed in an angry hiss. One did not _drag_ Roxanne Ritchi. She was to be carried. Damaging her beforehand would only prove detrimental to the overall kidnapping process.

"Y-yes sir," Minion agreed, wary now. He'd heard his master's dangerous tone. "The perpetrator, ah. . .knocked her out."

"How? Describe the process." Megamind made a mental note then to adapt the communicator to be able to view recordings sent from the Evil Lair.

"The man stepped out from behind the building as she was passing it and grabbed her around the torso. She struggled with him, but he managed to pull her back. She got a hand free and hit him, then started to run, but he caught her by the ankle and she fell. Then he got on top of her and punched her in the head. She was knocked out. He got around and picked her up under her arms and dragged her around the corner."

To say Megamind was angry would be putting it mildly. Manhandling her in such a way - what was the world coming to? The man was clearly an amateur. Knocking out the victim in a non-violent means made her that much more compliant later. And knocking her out without ever revealing yourself increased her eventual terror at discovering who had her. Not to mention the means by which he'd rendered her unconscious; a blow to the head would just give her a bruise and an angry disposition.

It was like the man knew _nothing at all_ about kidnapping a woman properly, let alone the singular specimen that Roxanne Ritchi was.

"Describe the male who took her," Megamind snapped now. Everything he learned was just making him more peeved. This whole thing was an unnecessary headache. Taking his victim, treating her roughly, derailing his careful plans in the process - it's plain _rude_ is what it is.

"Ah. . .the police database hasn't finished searching yet, so if he has a record -"

"Just _guess_," he interrupted.

"Sandy-blonde hair, very short, no tan, wore black jeans and a red sports jacket, I'd guess around six feet tall, two hundred pounds max."

Now Megamind glanced down the alley again. This was getting tedious. Who knew what the kidnapper could have done to her in half an hour? He said, "I'm going to start checking doors. I'll be back."

"But sir, the analysis isn't -"

Megamind was out of the car and had the door shut before Minion could go into length about why this was a bad - in a _bad_ way - idea. He stalked down the alley, noting how well-hidden it was from the street once you were so far down it. At the corner, he eyed both walls, picking out the doors he could see. Two of them were large garage-like doors that seemed out of place, given how no large vehicles would be able to drive down to them.

He started walking then, slowly, eying the edges of each of the doors. Most people didn't take the back way in or out of their homes or businesses, he knew. It made more sense to go through the front. Which is why he was looking for scrapes in the dirt to suggest a door had recently been opened. And he found it in one of the larger doors. In fact, the larger door was the _only_ one that had recently been disturbed. The handle even still had a handprint!

Sliding up to the door, he listened at it. Inside, he could hear the quiet drone of a man talking. The tone was suggestive, lilting, and soft, but no response was ever given. Was he talking to himself?

If Megamind was right about this, then Roxanne was somewhere in there, maybe even gagged. No - she _had_ to be gagged. It was the only way to keep her from making snippy, clever comments. And even then she still managed to talk back with her eyes alone.

This was proven when the male suddenly began shouting. Alarm rose in Megamind; angry males could do some nasty things to females. A wave of protective possessiveness went through him. He wasn't about to let anyone harm his damsel, especially on a day when he needed her.

Being stealthy about it, he lifted the door, glad that it wasn't making as much noise as movies suggest. He slid under it when it was far enough for him to squeeze through, trying to keep it dark within the place. Inside, he saw, it resembled a place he would turn into an Evil Lair. It was spacious and only filled with various metal structures. It had once been a factory of some sort, apparently - though an admittedly small one. Something with a low production rate had been created in here.

It was very dark at the edges, but a few lights were on ahead of him. From his place, as he hugged the walls and inched closer, he saw movement of what appeared to be a man sitting in a chair. He angled himself to see around the man's back, catching sight of Roxanne.

He was right. There was duct tape across her mouth. And as he looked, the scene began to take form. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

She was secured in the chair somehow, a table with a white cloth sitting between her and her abductor. On the table itself was a tall, lit candle, two plates of food, and two tall glasses of transparent yellow liquid. Champagne, probably. The man had kidnapped her. . .to have _lunch_ with her? When she just ate, no less? Was this some form of human courtship he'd never seen before?

It seemed so _primitive._ Knocking out a woman and binding her to a chair, all to get her to share a meal with you? Freaking _humans_ and their weird traditions.

The closer he came, the more he could make out what was being said. The man was frustrated and angry with Roxanne, constantly going back and forth from an attempt at being charming and outright yelling. And once he was close enough to make out her expression, he read resentment and fear on her face. She was scared, and pissed about it.

This man _frightened_ her? Oh, hell no. His pride took a blow. He couldn't make her cower, but this unknown human _could_? Jealousy seared him, at the reactions he couldn't provoke in her, at them appearing because of _someone else_. He'd already decided to smack this man around for throwing off his plans and stealing his property, but now he had another reason to do so.

Scaring his damsel. Really! _He_ was the supervillain here.

He unholstered his gun - not to shoot with it, but to whack the man upside the head with it. He was feeling vicious enough to hope he would draw blood when he did.

When he was one step away, Roxanne caught sight of him. Her eyes widened and a mix of relief and hope overtook the previous fear. Her _date_ seemed to notice her gaze, though she quickly masked it, and began to turn to see what she was looking at.

It all happened very fast then. Panic went through Megamind at the thought that he was going to lose his surprise attack, so he pounced, brandishing the gun. Roxanne leaned back, yelling something that came out muffled from the tape, and kicked over the table. The man reacted to the toppled table by giving a yell of indignation and jumping back, knocking over his chair. Megamind swung.

The gun connected with the man's skull, sounding a sickening _crack_. As he'd wished, a stream of blood appeared as the man swayed and collapsed to his left. Tiny bits of thrown food splattered Megamind's boots as the last vestiges finally landed. Both glasses of champagne had been spilled, the glasses shattered. The candle flame had winked out. The tablecloth was askew, revealing the wooden table beneath it on one corner.

Whatever adrenaline Megamind had been feeling faded. It was over, that quick. The man was out, though he moaned in his unconsciousness. Megamind released a heavy breath, then turned his gaze to Roxanne. She was wearing a nice tailored pale blue pants-suit today.

She was glaring at the mound of flesh on the ground. But as if called by him, she raised her eyes to his. _What now?_ those eyes said.

"You alright?" he wondered.

Disbelief colored her expression. Then she began sneering, muttering into the tape. In no time her words became a muffled rant, growing in volume until it was clearly hindering a screaming rage. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head as she went on and on, finally breathing hard through her nose some twenty seconds later.

He'd never seen her look so pissed off before. It left him almost dumbfounded. Now he began wondering what the idiot who'd kidnapped her had been talking about. Something inane, no doubt. Nobody of his minimal brain capacity could have possibly stimulated the mind of a woman like Roxanne Ritchi.

He holstered his gun and moved around the mess of the table, coming over to her. He reached for the tape first. She pulled away, glaring at his hand now.

"Oh, relax," he chided. "It's just like a band-aid. Right?" When she still tried to maneuver away, he grabbed her head with one hand and the tape with the other. She squeezed her eyes shut, wincing prematurely, and then he yanked. It actually made a tearing sound as it pulled free of her lips.

She yelped. The motion freed her mouth but the tape didn't come off all the way. She sent him another glare when he reached again to get the rest off, biting out a warning, "Don't you dare. . ."

He gave another solid jerk. It came off all the way now, though it must have been less painful because she only gave a sharp inhale.

"Ow," she exhaled.

Ignoring her vicious glares, he glanced behind her. Oh, great: handcuffs. She was bound to the chair smartly by the handcuffs, the chain going around a vertical spoke, her hands stuck between them. He considered using his dehydration gun to shrink the metal links, but pushed it away. He'd never thought to test it on something like handcuffs that were being worn, so he didn't know if they would sever through her wrists if he tried it. He made a mental note to test it when he got back to the Lair.

As it turned out, she already had a means of escape. Before he could start coming up with a way to get her free, she wriggled, her fingers pulling at the spoke, and it came free. Using her fingers, she guided the chain under it and rose out of the chair. Once upright, she muttered to herself as she linked one leg and then the other through the cuffs, bringing her hands to the front.

He caught a few words like "son of a" and "idiot". To his disbelieving gaze, she wrestled with the cuffs, wincing as she began pulling one hand free. Her face twisted into pain when the metal cuff was on level with her knuckles, and then she tore her hand free. She flexed the fingers, and he saw she'd peeled off skin over two of her knuckles in the process of freeing her hand.

With a scorching look pointed at the unconscious man nearby, she sucked on one of the injuries. Then she looked over at him, not watching as she wrestled with the other cuff.

"Nice timing," she approved.

Well, that was odd. She wasn't angry with him? Usually she was all kinds of cross when he came to kidnap her. Then again, he supposed she was _already_ kidnapped.

Out loud, he said, "Actually, I believe I'm late."

"Late?" she echoed, arching a brow.

"He had you for more than half an hour, right?"

"I don't know. There's no clock in here," she said as if he'd asked something stupid.

"Miss Ritchi, your primitive brain capacity is truly horrendous sometimes," he sighed.

"Are you suggesting you know the time at all times?" she replied with resentment.

"I know my age down to the hour," he hinted. "So, yes. It is now 12:27 by my internal clock."

She rolled her eyes. "Great. Another reason for you to gloat." With a wince, she got her left hand free at last. She held the handcuffs up with a frown, settling her gaze on the prone figure on the floor. Then, with a wicked smirk, she pushed the cuffs through, opening them up again. She started towards the man.

"What are you doing?" he wondered, half out of curiosity in general, and half in curiosity at the look she'd just had in her eyes. Those eyes read: sweet revenge.

Not answering, she grabbed the man by the ankle, pulling him around and dragging him away with determined steps. It was all Megamind could do to just follow, too curious to remain behind. What was she up to?

She dragged him all the way to a second-floor landing made up of several steel poles. The man began to stir, so she worked quick, cuffing one hand. She led the cuffs around the pole, then hooked the other end to -

His _ankle_. That looked uncomfortable. Megamind was just a tad impressed with her.

Finally, she stepped back, dusting off her hands, and waited. He shadowed her, still intrigued. She was waiting for the man to wake up now? Suddenly his plans didn't seem all that important; this was a rare glimpse of a vengeful Miss Ritchi, and - fates willing - he wanted to be here to see it.

"Thank you, by the way," she said absently with a glance over her shoulder at him.

His world rocked. Was he just _thanked_ for something? He forced out, "For. . .what? Knocking him out?"

"Yep," she replied, popping the 'p'.

"I'm the villain. I don't get _thanked,_" he argued.

"Today, you were my hero," she countered. "Just call it a fluke if you must."

He began stuttering. He was her hero? _How?_

"Hush. He's waking up," she said to him.

The now handcuffed man moved, groaned, pulled on his left hand - and failed. He frowned as he lifted his right hand absently, rubbing at his head wound, glancing around himself to see why his hand wasn't moving, wriggling. His eyes began to widen in horror as he comprehended his predicament.

"_Exactly,_" Roxanne intoned.

He shot a glance up at her. "What is this?" he demanded. Then his eyes fixed on Megamind and he jolted. "Roxy!" he snapped. "That - that's Megamind! Get out of here! Run!"

Megamind rose a brow. _Run, Roxy, run?_ First, who did this man think he was, to call her by that nickname? Second, how could he possibly want her to run when it was this man who'd kidnapped her first? Did he. . .care for her, to some extent? Did he worry about her safety?

"I know very well who it is," she replied. "Just relax. Right now, you should be worrying about _yourself._"

The man's expression deadpanned. "What? But. . . Wait. So you want me to just. . ._ignore_ the brute who keeps kidnapping you?" He was visibly confused by this.

"Honestly, you should rethink that," she advised him. "Of the two of you, I would say _you're_ the brute."

"I'm not a brute!" he snapped.

"My aching skull would suggest otherwise."

He winced. "Look, I'm. . . I'm sorry about that. But you wouldn't have come with me if I hadn't!"

"How would you possibly know that?" she shot back. "You didn't ask me anything. You didn't say a word. You just jumped me. Now tell me _again_ that I shouldn't be angry with you." She folded her arms.

Megamind wondered about that statement, then realized he must have missed a huge conversation between the two. Had this man, at some point, declared she shouldn't be angry with him?

"You shouldn't!" he declared now, fighting his bonds. "Jesus - these - are those handcuffs?"

Roxanne displayed her free hands. "The very same ones you used on me. Irony's a bitch sometimes, isn't it?"

"Look, Roxy, we can work this out -"

"Stop right there," she cut him off, her voice hard. "I swear to god, if you call me that one more time I will _impale_ you with a sharp object. Get my drift, Steven?"

_Steven_. Finally, to know his name! A part of Megamind was happy he had at least _one_ answer. But the rest of him was focused on Roxanne's threat. Did she really just threaten to stab a man? _Roxanne Ritchi?_ Paragon of virtue, girlfriend to Metro Man himself? While a piece of him refused to believe his ears, the rest was thrilled. What else would he learn about her today? Maybe that she would actually deliver on the threat?

He'd bet Steven would scream. Loud.

"I get the drift," Steven said, "but - you have to understand - I _love_ you -"

Her uninterrupted glare silenced him. Megamind only had to glimpse her expression to know how deadly serious she was about this.

"No," she disagreed, "you don't. You're obsessed. You created a completely fictional relationship with me because you're fixated on me. That's not love - it's a form of stalking. Did you know that?"

"But I _know_ you!" he went on arguing. "I know everything about you!"

"Try me," she replied dryly.

"You. . .your favorite color is red," he started.

"Wrong," both she and Megamind said in unison. She sent a glance at him in question, raising a brow.

He shrugged. "It's blue." The irony hadn't escaped him - especially considering that any woman in her right mind would probably begin to hate the color after so many kidnappings wherein the kidnapper was blue-skinned.

"Right," she agreed, still with skepticism in her eyes. She seemed to put it aside, though, focusing on Steven again. "Technically it's the darker blues, like royal blue, but that's not the point. Go on," she offered, "try again."

Steven flustered, clearly grasping as straws. "Your favorite flower is roses!"

"I don't even _have_ a favorite flower," she sighed, "but if I had to choose it'd probably be orchids."

"Y-y-you like your eggs scrambled a-and you're afraid of heights, your favorite movie is Saving Private Ryan -" Roxanne chose then to roll her eyes heavenward "- your favorite genre of music is indie -" she scoffed "- you love the sky at midnight because of all the stars, and the ocean, a-a-a-an-and. . .you love _me_," he finished, smiling.

For a long moment, there was only silence. Megamind watched Roxanne, wondering what she would say next. Most of what Steven had said was incorrect, he knew, but some others he didn't know. One thing he was certain of was that she didn't love _Steven_ - she was in love with Metro Head.

And considering his still-prevalent crush on her, that fact ate away at him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make it go away. Which, he supposed, was all _her_ fault. The way she bantered with him, lacking the hostility he was used to having aimed his way, plus her little smiles whenever something amused her and the fact that she didn't struggle to get out of the situations he put her in. . . Well, was it any surprise he liked her? She was hardly an average human, let alone an average woman, with her strengths and sharp eye and quick mind and clever tongue.

Megamind had always believed that Metro Loser was lucky, being gifted with so many good things, but he was only really jealous of the fact that he'd been gifted with Roxanne herself. It was probably the biggest reason why he hated the goody-two-shoes shiny-teeth braindead drone.

It was because of that last bit - Metro Man _was_ fairly braindead - that he couldn't believe Roxanne could even want him. He had about as many active brain cells as a smear of nasal mucus that had long since dried into crust. How could anyone as blindingly perfect as her see him and think to herself, _"Yeah, he's my type?"_

The universe was unfair, through and through.

At long last, the woman sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She knelt, but instead of hitting or beating Steven, she seemed to take pity on him.

"Look, Steven," she started, "this is a severe mental disorder. You need treatment for this." When he began protesting, she held her hand up for silence, talking over him. "You do _not_ love me. What you love is the fictional woman you've placed in my shoes. You want me to be this woman, not the other way around. And I am _not_ about to completely change everything about me for a stranger who's trying to cling to an illusion.

"Here's what's going to happen: I'm going to leave you here. Then I'm going to contact the police and they're going to arrest you. I'll press charges, and you'll plead guilty by means of insanity. You'll be taken to an asylum where you'll undergo therapy for this. And maybe, once you're better, I'll forgive you for all this." She rose. "Until then, you're a direct threat to my life."

Steven began shaking his head. "I wouldn't hurt you - ever!"

"That's what all stalkers say," she allowed. "But the fact is that what one covets, one will destroy to keep from others. And I refuse to be your victim in the obituaries."

Steven was talking again, starting to beg - then curse, but Roxanne was walking away, heading for the exit. Megamind shadowed her steps for a while, then kept pace with her.

"You're really not going to get revange or anything?" he wondered. "It looked like you wanted to wring his neck."

She arched a brow at him. "If I was the type to get revenge, Megamind, yours would be the first neck I wring. But no, I'm not the revenge type." Her eyes softened a bit as she looked ahead, both of them swamped in shadows by now. "I don't particularly like hurting things. Especially not people with psychoses."

He could remember four instances off the top of his head in which she had struck him - twice, it had been a punch to the face. He knew very well that while she may not have taken any pleasure in it, she had _definitely_ taken satisfaction in it. Which, he supposed, was owed her; he _did_ tend to put her in life-threatening situations on a bi-monthly basis. What she didn't know was that the traps only ever _looked_ threatening - they all had a failsafe that would kick in if she ever was _actually_ in danger.

Partly because he liked her, but also, well, could you _imagine_ the cleanup involved if he turned her into bloody human paste? It would take _weeks_ to clean properly!

She didn't wait for him when they reached that big garage door, yanking it up by hooking her foot in the handle, then grasping it and pushing it all the way open. She held her pose for a second, hands up, watching the door to make sure it wouldn't come crashing down, then exited.

When they reached the sidewalk, he stopped her, saying, "Wait here while I get the spray."

She groaned. "Seriously? After all this, you're still going to kidnap me? One kidnapping a day isn't enough?"

He shrugged, thinking he still had a plan to unfold - but she had a point. He considered it. It was Thursday; he could repeat this process just as easily tomorrow, which was just another work day for her.

"Oh, _fine_," he sighed, as if this was a huge concession. "I'll nab you tomorrow then."

With an amused tone, she retorted, "I can see how much it pains you to concede, and as such, you have my deepest gratitude."

"One more snip like that, Miss Ritchi," he warned from the driver side of the vehicle, "and I'll nab you anyway just for the principle of it."

"Point taken."

He got in and took off without a backwards glance - though he _did_ wonder about this Steven character and what would happen to him. With a smirk, ideas began filtering in, involving bribes, tiny remote-controlled robots and switched medications. He had a satisfying mental image of Steven, dosed way too high on behavior-regulating drugs, sitting in a chair with a deadpanned expression, drooling as he stared at the ceiling.

It was a beautiful thought.


End file.
